A Most Delicious Fruit

It was beautiful, sitting there in the front yard. It’s been there for as long as I can remember. It’s always looked the same, aside from the shifting colors with the changing seasons. I’ve always loved how tall it is, it’s presence looming over the house from the front yard. When I watch it from the window, sometimes I slide open the glass and press my face against the mesh screen to try and get a better look at the color. It’s on days like this, when it’s pouring rain, that I try to see how the water shines off the leaves, somehow making the color that much brighter.

“Ella, come wash your hands for dinner!” my mom called from the kitchen. I sighed, slowly pealing my face away from the screen window and closing the glass again, shutting out the sounds of rain against the ground outside. You could still hear the storm hitting the roof. The rain was harsher during this time of the year.

I ran into the kitchen, coming to a skidding stop as I almost ran into my grandpa who was walking to the table with the local newspaper. He always liked to read the college sports section right before eating. I always thought that it must be some sort of ritual for him.

“Woah, little lady, in a hurry for some delicious spaghetti?” grandpa asked with a chuckle as he patted my shoulder, using his hand to steer me towards the sink.

“Thanks dad, but all the compliments should go to mom. After all, she is the one who gave me the recipe for the sauce,” mom said, sounding amused by the compliment, turning on the sink for me as I stepped onto the stool to wash my hands. Mom always seemed shy when it came to nice words, “honey, can you put the bread on the table for me please?” I hopped off the stool in one jump after washing my hands and took the bread from her, putting it on the edge of the table and pushing it over so it wouldn’t fall off. Grandpa helped me while not taking his eyes off of the page he was reading, grabbing it and setting it in the middle of the table. In that moment, my dad walked into the kitchen, giving my mom a kiss on the cheek as he walked by and grabbing the bowl of pasta from her to set on the table, before sitting down himself.

“What were you doing in the living room, Eloise? Looking at that tree again?” Mom asked as she brought the remains of the finished dinner she cooked to the table before sitting down next to me. My dad laughed at that, pouring himself some water before pouring my mom a glass. She smiled at him in thanks. Before I could answer, my grandpa chimed in.

“You were admiring the pear tree in the front yard?” He asked, setting his newspaper aside in order to serve himself some dinner. I wasn’t surprised when he started serving me up too, giving me a couple meatballs. I nodded at his question, grabbing my fork, ready to shove a bite into my mouth.

“Eloise, manners sweetie.” Dad said and I mumbled a brief apology before slowing down.

“You know, if you wanted Ella, I could tell you a story about that tree,” my grandpa stated as he started eating. My eyes widened before I quickly tried to act like I wasn’t excited. In reality, I wanted to hear everything about that tree. Mom quickly interrupted before I could answer.

“Let’s wait until after dinner, dad. I know how long that story can be,” grandpa chuckled as he took a bite, giving a thumbs-up at mom. I huffed before sitting further back in my seat, trying not to be disappointed that I’d have to wait to hear about the tree. It had better be worth the wait.

***

If it’s possible, dinner went by even slower with the excitement of wanting to hear the story. Even worse, dad made me help clean up dinner with him. I was hand washing the dishes so quick that I wasn’t getting them clean enough. Dad would hand the dishes back to me to wash for a second time and after more than a few times of this, we switched cleaning duties and I became the dish drier instead. I tried to do this task better because I didn’t want to put off hearing the story any longer.

***

Finally, dad took me off cleaning duty when everything was spotless and dried, and I quickly ran into the front room where grandpa had retired after dinner. He was sitting in his old reclining chair, reading the newspaper he had at the table. The recliner is a dark mustard color with a couple holes in the arm rests, worn from all the years of use. Grandpa had brought it with him when he’d moved back into the house some time ago.

Grandpa and grandma used to live in our farm house before I was born. Story goes that this house has been in the family for a long time. Mom grew up in this house, grandpa grew up in this house, his dad grew up in this house and even his mom grew up in this house. I guess that would make her my great great grandma. Grandpa had to move back in after grandma got sick because mom thought it would be best. Mom said that grandma died and grandpa was living all alone in the city. Ever since then, he sits in his recliner every night- sometimes to read or sometimes to nap.

I sat on the couch in front of the window, trying not to turn around and look at the tree so that I could keep all my focus on grandpa. I waited patiently for him to put the newspaper down so he could tell me the story. He had his glasses on, a bulky looking pair, and without looking away from the page he started speaking.

“Are you ready to hear the story?” he asked me. I nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands. He took his glasses off and folded the newspaper back up, setting it on the coffee table in front of us, “now before I start you should know, this story spans through generations. My parents told me this story, and their parents told them this story, and so on…” he cleared his throat before glancing at the pear tree outside and then looking back at me.

“That pear tree out there has been in this family for a long time. It’s always sat in that exact same spot, never growing, never changing shape. The only thing that changes are the colors. When I was your age I used to sit at that window too, in that exact same spot, and stare at that tree. Something about it is... hypnotizing. My mom would have to pull me away from that window countless times,” he paused for a second and looked to be thinking. I made sure to look like I was listening even more when he started talking again, “there is something special about that pear tree. You see, the pears on that tree never grow and never fall. Usually with a pear tree, they are ready to pick at the beginning of the Autumn season, and by the time a pear is completely ripe it may fall from its branch and onto the ground. This tree is different though. You see, the pears always stay the same size and the same color. They always look ready to eat, and you know what?”

“What?!” I didn’t realize at first that grandpa asked me question but when I did I quickly answered.

“No one has ever eaten a pear from that tree,” my eyes widened at this and grandpa held his hands up, leaning forward as he did, “I’m not kidding. Not a single pear has ever been picked and eaten from those branches.”

“But… but that’s impossible grandpa!” I exclaimed. That’s the only thing I could think in that moment, aside from that those pears looked too good to never have been eaten.

“It’s not impossible, I swear it. Though there is a story from long down the family line, before I was born. A distant nephew, I think his name was Daniel, came to visit the house one summer. He did the same thing we did- stare at that tree. He would go outside too and study the tree, trying to figure out how to reach the pears. You see, sometimes pears will hang low enough on trees to be able to reach. This tree though? The pears have never hung that low. He wanted to taste the pears so bad that every evening during that summer he would try everything he could to get one. He would try to jump, but the branches weren’t low enough. He would try to climb, but the lower branches would always break. He even tried to use the ladder from the barn, and that wouldn’t even reach the lowest hanging pear, or a branch sturdy enough to hold him. He almost gave up even, but you know what happened next?” at this point in the story I was leaning so far forward I was on the edge of my seat.

“One evening, around 9:00 p.m. after the sun had set for the night, he comes running inside. He was so excited that his parents could barely understand what he was saying. When they finally got him to calm down they noticed that he was holding something, and in his hands… was a pear!” I gasped at those words, unable to contain my question though I knew he may not be done with the story.

“But grandpa, how did he get the pear?!”

“That’s the thing, Eloise. The family never knew and when Daniel was asked how he got the pear, he told them ‘my friend helped me’. The strange thing is there’s not another house for miles. When asked where this friend came from, Daniel told them he lived in the barn. His parents checked and couldn’t find anyone, nor any sign of anyone living in the barn. They chalked it up to an imaginary friend of some sort. They never truly knew how he had picked the pear, but in the end it didn’t matter. Rumor has it? Daniel shared the fruit, and it was the best thing they’d ever tasted in their lives so they didn’t bother trying to think harder about how he got it,” my mouth salivated at the thought, “and that’s the story Eloise. The story of the pear tree in the front yard.”

At that point, dad had come into the room and told me it was time for bed. I thanked grandpa for the story, and stole one last glance out the window. The sun was setting beyond the pear tree now and in that moment I became determined- I needed to eat a pear from that tree.

***

Over the next couple weeks, I would go outside every evening after dinner and stare at the pear tree. I tried climbing it, but as grandpa said in his story, every branch I would try to grab onto would break and I would fall back to the ground. I huffed in annoyance after the third try and sat on the ground, looking up at the tree as the sunset shown through the leaves.

“I will get to taste you, pear tree.” I spoke aloud, the continued determination in my voice.

“Eloise! Will you go to the barn and grab me the flashlight and bucket?” Dad shouted to me from the front door. Our sink in the kitchen has been broken for a few days; I overheard mom and dad talking about some muck forming in the pipes.

“Yea dad!” I shouted back before getting up and dusting myself off. I ran to the barn quickly and opened the heavy door with some effort. I tried to turn the light on, but it only came on for a second before crackling out. I decided to leave the barn door open for some light. I walked into the barn slowly, a chill suddenly creeping over me. During the day this barn didn’t seem so scary, but toward the night time there was a worrying feeling to the place.

A shuffling noise somewhere in the barn made me jump in place and quickly look around. I didn’t see anything so continued moving forward until I found the bucket sitting underneath a shelf. I dusted some cobwebs off of it before picking it up, looking around to try and find the flashlight. I saw it sitting on a shelf across the barn so I quickly ran to it, picking it up. I was about to turn and head back to the door when I heard the noise again.

The corner near where I was standing was extra dark and seemed to be where the noise was coming from. For a moment, I thought that this must look ridiculous. Here I am, standing in a barn, alone, getting scared about some noises I heard. After all, it is an old barn so is bound to be rickety. Except when I turned to leave, the noise started again. It sounded like the shuffling was coming closer to me. I squinted into what looked like infinite darkness, trying to see if there was a raccoon or a possum. I would definitely have to tell dad if that was the case. It took me a moment to remember I had a flashlight, which I then quickly turned on as the shuffling noise became louder. I backed up quickly as I tried to find the power button and turned it on just as the noise stopped not too far in front of me. I was looking at the ground, trying to compose myself before shining the flashlight ahead of me. After all, it was only a raccoon or a possum.

When the light turned on it was facing the floor and I slowly brought it up to the darkness in front of me and as I brought the light up it flickered. At this point, my heavy breathing wasn’t the only breathing in the barn. I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering how an animal could breathe so loudly. I looked up with my eyes still closed, and when I opened them I froze.

The flickering light did little to illuminate the darkness in front of me. All I could see was what appeared to be a dark lump in front of me closer to the wall. I could see it moving up and down, matching the additional heavy breathing along with my own. I couldn’t do anything but stand there and stare, and then it started rising slowly. My eyes widened as the hunched figure came to its full height. I continued to back away slowly as the flashlight did one last flicker before completely sputtering out, leaving whatever was in front of me shrouded completely in darkness again. I froze again, not sure if it had seen me backing up and not wanting to alert whatever it was.

Red glowing eyes snapped open, about 6 feet above me, and I screamed. I screamed so loud and ran back out the door of the barn. It felt like forever to get there as I gripped the flashlight and bucket in my hand. When I finally made it out of the barn I threw the bucket and flashlight aside, turning and shutting the barn door as quickly as I could. I was breathing so heavy I felt like my chest was going to burst. When I finally got the heavy barn door shut, I picked up the flashlight and bucket and ran to the front porch as fast as I could. There I collapsed and tried to get my breathing back to normal before going back inside. No one had come outside when I screamed, which must have meant that nobody had heard it.

When I felt calm again after a few moments, I stared at the barn door a minute longer before turning and going inside to give my dad the tools he needed. I tried to get the image of the red eyes out of my head.

***

It had been a few days before I sat by the window again to stare at the tree. I was too scared of possibly seeing whatever that… thing was. I didn’t tell anyone I saw it, not even grandpa. I knew they wouldn’t believe me if I tried and so I kept my mouth shut. When I gained the courage again, I started admiring the pear tree once more, opening the window to put my face against the screen again.

“Why don’t you go outside anymore? Don’t you want to try to get a pear again?” Grandpa asked me one evening after dinner. I turned in my seat on the couch, not realizing he had been watching me look out the window.

I shrugged, “I don’t know grandpa, it seems pointless. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to reach it.” I shrugged again and then turned to look at the tree over my shoulder; it was pouring rain again, making the tree look bright once more. Grandpa was right, the tree was hypnotizing. I turned back and grandpa raised an eyebrow at me before pulling his newspaper back up to continue reading. I bit the inside of my cheek, looking down at my knees before getting up and practically running outside the front door. I stood on the porch for a moment, contemplating putting a jacket on while staring at the pear tree across the yard. I decided that I didn’t have time for a jacket and glanced at the barn for a split second before straightening my shoulders and heading toward the tree.

The sun was setting through the leaves again as I looked up the base of the tree. The leaves were doing little to keep me from getting wet, the rain somehow coming through the leaves enough to soak through my clothes. I bit the inside of my cheek again, considering how I was going to do this once more as I backed away to get a better look at the branches; I had to keep blinking to keep the water from blurring my vision. Climbing hadn’t worked before, and there was no way I was going to the barn to try and find a ladder, so that left one other option: jumping.

As I started jumping, I thought about the story that grandpa had told me. I thought about Daniel. I wondered how he was able to get the pear. I wondered if he was taller than me and had longer arms. Maybe he suddenly grew 7 more feet and was able to reach the pears. More importantly though, I wondered what the pear tasted like. As I jumped and stared straight above me at the fruit, I stuck my tongue out. I was almost hoping I would be able to taste it if I just stretched it far enough, but only tasted rain water instead. After what felt like the thousandth jump I still hadn’t made it any closer to the pear. I huffed in frustration, if getting a pear was the last thing I did, then so be it.

I planted my feet firmly in the wet ground, widening my stance and squatting to try and get the biggest jump. I brought my arms up to my side and clenched my fists, looking up in concentration before closing my eyes, letting the water hit my face and getting ready for what may possibly be the biggest jump of my life.

I jumped off the ground quickly with a grunt, hearing the slosh underneath my feet. I kept my eyes closed and reached my right hand up to towards the branches, hoping to feel a pear and pluck it from its stem. When my hand touched something slick and solid, I gasped and my eyes snapped open as my hand closed around it. In my hand was a pear, probably one of the plumpest ones on the whole tree. I stared at it in curiosity as water dripped from it and onto my hand, wondering how I’d actually done it. I thought that it must be some kind of miracle.

It was then that I realized my feet hadn’t touched the wet ground again. I had been so elated at getting the fruit that I had tuned out all other noise, even the sound of the rain. It was when all the noise started filtering back through that I could hear a familiar loud breathing that was not my own. With that, I noticed my body was fully rising and falling with the tempo of the breathing I could hear. I swallowed before looking down.

Though the sun had almost completely set now, the light from the moon and the distant light from the porch illuminated what appeared to be a coarse surface beneath me. In that moment I decided to crouch down again and with my left hand I touched the surface. It felt like… wet fur? I swallowed again and slowly looked up, still in my crouched position. And just like in the barn, I froze at what was before me.

I tried my best not to scream this time because before me were big red eyes. The same big red eyes from the barn. Around them was what appeared to be black fur, soaking wet and short enough for me to see the sunken face beneath. With the light of the porch, and the moon, providing some illumination, I looked at the rest of its face slowly. There was no nose that I could see, no visible ears or eyebrows and its mouth appeared to be… smiling? I could tell a confused look came over my face and the thing’s smile faltered for a moment. I looked away quickly, searching below me.

When I looked over its hand, or what I think is its hand, I could see I was far off of the ground. So far that trying to jump down would most likely break my leg or something when landing; it would definitely cause me to slip on the muddy grass. I looked over to the house and grandpa still looked to be sitting in his chair, at least from what I could tell. His eyes were now closed in what appeared to be slumber and I doubt he would wake up and look my way anytime soon. I gripped tightly to the pear and looked up at the face again, into the red eyes. I let out a deep sigh before talking.

“Will you… will you please put me down?” I asked in a quiet voice, not taking my eyes away from the red ones. There was what felt like a long moment, where I wasn’t sure if it would listen to me. I had this terrifying thought that it would carry me, pear in hand, back into the barn with it. I wasn’t sure what would happen after that and I didn’t want my mind to wander.

I glanced towards the porch again, about to yell for help when I felt myself being lowered. I looked back at the face in front of me and tried not to make any sudden movements for fear it would change its mind. But it didn’t and I let out a sigh of relief as my feet touched the wet ground again. At this point, I was holding the pear so hard I’m surprised it didn’t burst under my grip.

I stood to my full height and looked up at the creature in front of me as the rain continued falling over me. That’s the only word I could think to describe what was standing in front of me: creature. It had risen to its full height but remained looking down at me. Water fell upon its head and body too, but it didn’t seem to be bothered. Neither of us made a move and I blinked, hard, expecting it to be gone when I opened my eyes but it wasn’t. This didn’t seem real, but the pear still in my hand certainly said otherwise. I continued to stand in front of the creature, not sure what it wanted from me now.

“Thank you?” I asked questioningly and it made a growling noise, seeming to stand a little straighter while looking down at me, “Thank you.” I said more loudly and more confidently. At this, the creature made another growling noise and then turned, hunkering its way through the storm and back toward the barn. I watched it go, its head and body went through some of the tree branches but no pears fell because of it, only water droplets from the fruit and leaves. I watched it still as it got to the barn’s door and contorted its way back inside. It was so huge; I wasn’t sure how it even fit. And then after a moment the barn door closed softly.

I stood there for a few moments longer, letting my clothing become even more soaked, not sure what had just happened. For a second I wondered if I’d imagined it but then knew I hadn’t if the pear in my hand was anything to go by. Without another thought I ran back to the porch, sliding a couple times in some mud. When I made it to the porch I practically jumped over the steps and bust my way through the front door. Soaking wet, I looked over at grandpa, sitting in his recliner, and I could tell I startled him awake because his eyes were as wide as dinner plates.

“What in the world?” Dad said as him and mom came rushing from upstairs, “what is going on, Eloise? Why were you outside in this storm?” Mom asked after.

I didn’t say anything, just wordlessly held the pear up in the air, my grip still strong on it. There was a long moment of silence, where grandpa stood up from his recliner and mom and dad just stared at me.

“You did it. You got a pear,” grandpa said, almost to quiet to hear, and then “you got a pear!” he exclaimed and then rushed over, pulling me into a tight hug as my parents came the rest of the way down the stairs to do the same. They didn’t care that they were also getting wet, and I’m sure I smelled which they certainly didn’t care about either. We were all smiling, and in all the excitement and cheering we’d decided to cut it up and share it in the living room.

I’d never seen my family as happy as this as they worked together, gathering plates and a knife in order to cut the fruit. They all had big smiles on their faces which in turn left a big smile on mine. It’s like they were sharing the joy with me. Before I knew it, we were all sitting in the living room with cut up pear sitting in front of us on the coffee table. Mom had grabbed me a towel in all the excitement and I now held that over my drying hair and shoulders.

“Before we each grab a piece, Eloise, tell us your secret. How did you finally manage to get a pear?” Mom asked, “I tried every day when I was your age, never managed to get one. So I want to know your secret!” her eyes were willed with happiness as she looked into mine. I looked at her, looked at dad, looked at grandpa and then looked out the window. I’m sure they thought I was looking towards the tree but I was actually looking towards the barn. I watched the rain fall upon it for a brief moment and then turned back to them again.

I shrugged, “My friend helped me,” I said before picking up a piece of pear. My parents looked at me and chuckled, and when I looked at grandpa he gave me a wink. For a second, I wondered…

“To Eloise!” Dad said as he too picked up a piece of the pear. Mom and grandpa picked up one to, simultaneously following dad by saying “to Eloise!” in a toast.

I smiled big and put the piece I had in my pocket to take back outside later, and then grabbed another one and took a bite. I no longer had to wonder- it was the most delicious fruit I’d ever tasted.